


By The Firework's Light

by ununoriginal



Category: NewS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Gen, One Shot, One of My Favorites, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-17
Updated: 2009-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununoriginal/pseuds/ununoriginal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe, he can reach out one more time. Shige & Ryo-centric, NewS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By The Firework's Light

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Days Broken Into Fragments](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/23667) by catskilt. 



> Remix of Days Broken Into Fragments by the lovely misticloud for jentfic_remix. Inspired by Mr. Children's 'はなび'.

_i gave up a number of precious things in exchange for something i got_  
  
“Open up!  Nishikido-kun!”  Shige jiggles the handle again, then slams at the door with even greater force.  “Damnit, open the bloody door!”  
  
He's never imagined he would be doing this, banging on the entrance of Ryo's apartment with his shouts of escalating frustration echoing up and down the corridor.  But he'd glanced up at the second-storey window of Ryo's residence as he was preparing to leave, discouraged once again when there was no response after he rang the bell multiple times.  He'd caught the movement of the curtains, saw the hand that twitched them shut, and he had decided that this was it.  
  
His feet pounded up the stairs and he just barely managed to stop himself from crashing into the door.  
  
“I saw you!  So stop trying to pretend you're not there – please open the door, Nishikido-kun!”  He's given up the doorbell in favour of banging on the flimsy wood, rattling the entire structure in its frame.  
  
He tugs at the handle, fantasising for a moment that he could step back and barrel his way through with sheer physical force, but that only happens in the world of drama and make-believe, and he's no longer participant to that universe anymore.  
  
“Goddamnit!”  *BANG*  “Nishikido-kun!!”  *BANG BANG*  
  
“Just open up...”  He slumps a little, resting his forearms against the door, kicking half-heartedly at the barrier barring him access to his increasingly reclusive ex-bandmate.  
  
He realises that it's been nearly nine months since he's seen Ryo in person.  He gets updates now and then, of course – Koyama still faithfully keeping up with the _member-ai_ , even though the band's become a thing of pop-culture-past – and he recalls a couple of times early on, when he'd been at this same spot, turning away after pressing the doorbell and receiving nothing but silence from the other side.  
  
Then one of his university friends came through with his promise and Shige had landed the job as a paralegal.  Adjusting to being a salaryman with its days of nine-to-nine and sitting still, staring at an LCD screen, endlessly clicking and typing and printing reams and reams of paper, had consumed his days.  He pushes away the semi-guilty thought that there was also the increasingly frequent after-work dinners and drinks, the slow expansion of his network, re-establishing links with old classmates and friends that gradually pulled him into another life, one that he may have potentially led from the start, had he never entered Johnny's Entertainment.  
  
Maybe it would be easier if he just leaves – Yamapi still watches out for Ryo, Shige knows, but when he'd met Yamapi two nights ago, the older man had made vaguely evasive comments that worried Shige.  Judging from the way Yamapi was throwing back his liquor, Shige could tell that Yamapi was hanging from fraying threads as well.  
  
He leans back with a thud against the door, sliding down along it until he's sitting in a crouch upon the floor.  “Look, Nishikido-kun, I'm going to wait here until you let me in.”  He gives a couple more thumps for good measure.  It's a bit of a gamble, but for all his outward bluster, Ryo has softened considerably towards Shige in recent years, especially when it's just the two of them, and he's banking on some remnants of that affection to emotionally blackmail Ryo towards the door.  
  
Half an hour later, his hunch proves to be right and he gets pitched forward when the door abruptly opens, his hands shooting out to prevent himself from ending up flat on his face.  The door stays ajar as Shige gets up off his knees and turns around, but there's no one at the doorway.  Shige catches the tail-end of Ryo's bathrobe disappearing into the gloom of his apartment.  
  
Cautiously, he toes off his shoes and steps into the living room, moving slowly to let his eyes get accustomed to the dimness.  The frown lines upon his forehead get progressively deeper as he scans his surroundings, noting the clothes piled on the couch and trailing to the floor, books and magazines scattered here and there, sheets of paper crumpled and littering the space near the window.  Ryo's guitar lies half-buried under the mess, looking like it had tumbled over from where Ryo had once set it against the wall.  
  
Shige takes a deep breath and immediately sort of regrets it – there is a sickly sweet smell permeating the apartment, like a combination of spoiling food and dirty laundry.  Quickly he opens the windows, pushing them as wide as possible to let the fresh air in.   
  
The daylight pouring through only further illuminates the grime and filthiness inhabiting the place.  Ryo's curled up on the floor against the countertop that separates the kitchen from the living room, next to empty beer cans and a half-consumed six-pack still in the convenience store's plastic bag, and as Shige approaches him, the smell of stale beer is added to the stench.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing to yourself.”  Shige makes himself keep his voice low – he doesn't know if he can contain the disappointment and anger roiling within him otherwise.  
  
Ryo doesn't answer except to paw around in the plastic bag beside him until he frees another can of beer from the plastic holder.  He's about to pull up the aluminium tab when Shige knocks the alcohol out of his hand.  
  
“Stop it.”  
  
Ryo finally looks up at Shige, and Shige forces himself not to flinch at the hopelessness deadening Ryo's eyes.  He's lost even more weight, appearing frail, swimming in the bathrobe that Shige doubts was this stained grey colour to begin with.   
  
“...Leave me be.”  Ryo's voice comes out like a croak, raspy from disuse.  
  
“How do you expect me to respond to that, when I come here and see you like this?” Shige answers sharply, gesturing heatedly at the room behind him.  
  
Ryo turns his gaze away listlessly.  “You've moved on, you shouldn't be here...  Just go.”  
  
“That logic is so fucked up I don't even know where to start.”  Impatiently, Shige sinks down on his knees in front of Ryo, pushing the stash of unconsumed alcohol out of Ryo's reach.  “If this is how Yamashita-kun is letting you be, then I am damn well not leaving, no offense to him.”  
  
“We're no longer band mates, you don't have to feel obliged to do anything--”   
  
Ryo gets cut off when Shige grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him a little.  “God, listen to you!  Why are you being like this?!”  
  
“Being like what?  A has-been?”  Ryo laughs weakly, self-mocking.  “An unemployed ex-idol with no skills or qualifications whatsoever?  With no future?”  
  
Shige resists the urge to slap Ryo about the head and stands up instead, pulling Ryo along as well.  “That's it, come on.”  
  
He shoves Ryo into the shower and turns the water on, disregarding Ryo's clothed state.  “What do you think you're doing?” Ryo asks numbly as he stares at Shige through the open door of the bathroom.  Shige is rummaging through Ryo's closet and making disgusted noises as he goes through the items within.  
  
“I'm trying to find you something reasonably decent to wear, so do me a favour and get yourself cleaned up so you can put it on.”  
  
“...Why?”  
  
Shige pauses in his sorting out of the T-shirts he's dumped on Ryo's unmade bed.  “So you won't scare people when I bring you out in public.”  
  
“But I don't want to go out.”  The bathrobe is getting heavy from the water soaking it, and unthinkingly, Ryo pushes it off his shoulders, letting the material fall to the tiles with a slop.  
  
“It's not a matter of your wants anymore, Nishikido-kun.  You _need_ to get out of this place.”  Shige brings in the approved T-shirt and jeans and hangs them over the towel rack.  “Now hurry up.”  
  
*  
 __  
in my day-to-day life, my impossible dreams and hopes are buried  
  
“Haven't you been moping enough?”   
  
They're sitting on the floor of Shige's living room, the remains of the pasta Shige made for dinner on the low table in front of them.  Ryo didn't have much of an appetite, but Shige had glared at him until he reluctantly swallowed about three-quarters of what was on the plate, washing it down with the _sen-cha_ that was all Shige would allow him.  
  
Ryo remains silent, drinking more of his tea instead.  Fatigue is descending upon him, ever since he finished his food, a bone-deep exhaustion as his body made its demands for sleep known.  Shige doesn't wait for Ryo's answer, clearing the dishes and bringing them to the sink.  
  
By the time he returns, Ryo has already nodded off, head dropping forward so that his fringe is practically brushing the table.  
  
“Fine, we'll do this another time,” Shige mutters with a little sigh, and goes to get the extra blankets and pillow.  
  
He prods Ryo up and Ryo falls upon the couch instead, pulling the comforter around himself as Shige tosses it over him.  Ryo catches Shige's hand as Shige is turning away.  
  
“I'm not moping, Shige.  It's... more than that.”  
  
Shige pauses, looking at the fatalistic resignation in Ryo's expression.  He settles down upon the floor next to Ryo's head.  
  
“Ne, Nishikido-kun, all these years, did you never think about what you might have done once our time in the limelight was past?  Did you never once stop to think about life after thirty-five?  After you were forty?”  Shige speaks softly, making Ryo strain a little to hear his words.  “We would have gotten our lives back, in a way.  What would you have done then?”  
  
“I...”   
  
Ryo wants to say no, that these thoughts have never occurred to him, that all he knew was to work hard and even harder – to dance more, sing more, practice more than any other, because that's all he was good for.  But the words don't come, because in the murkiness of his mind, there are glimmers of daydreams along the Shinkansen, shapeless yearnings for a different existence, the stuff of fantasies.  
  
Sleep that night brings Ryo back to a time when all six of them were still together, sitting across from each other and tossing back the drinks like there was no tomorrow.   
  
Shige's just finished his drunken blubbering and Ryo accuses him of being upright, of being normal, of having a life, while Yamapi tries unsuccessfully to silence him.  
  
Shige leans over and reaches out for Ryo's hand, fingers curling over his own, and Ryo feels the strength and warmth flow into him as Shige stares at him with his large earnest eyes.  
  
“You're seeing it as the end of your world, Nishikido-kun.  But if you look at it from another angle, you're finally getting a chance you never used to have, and isn't that a beautiful thing?”  
  
*  
  
 _my melancholy blows away with your gentle smile_  
  
“Oh my god, what happened to your place?!”   
  
Yamapi squeezes past Ryo into his apartment, after getting over the initial surprise of Ryo answering the door within three minutes of him ringing the doorbell.  He turns around in a circle, gazing in amazement at the clothing-free couch, the neatly stacked books, the open window and drawn-back curtains letting in the sun.  Halfway through his inspection, he suddenly sniffs the air and lets out a huge sigh of relief.  
  
“Ah~~  I can finally stop breathing with my mouth!”  
  
Ryo comes up behind him and cuffs him in the shoulder.  
  
“It was Shige, and Koyama.  They came by and helped me clean up the place last week.”  For some reason he doesn't really understand himself, Ryo doesn't feel like mentioning that the pair actually did it while he was still staying over at Shige's.   
  
That visit had been like a holiday, a reprieve from the blackness in his mind.  For five days, he had slept on Shige's couch, woken up to the sounds of Shige rushing around getting ready for work, drifting back to sleep with Shige's shower-fresh scent lingering from when he stops to say goodbye to Ryo before leaving.   
  
On the second day, Shige left a grocery list, directions to the nearby department store and the keys to his car.  Ryo would have ignored the items, leaving them as they were upon the dining table, but just as he was on the verge of going back to sleep, Koyama arrived, three-year-old niece in tow, declaring he had the day off and Ryo could help him babysit.  Ryo found himself trailing after the pair down the supermarket aisles pushing a shopping cart, self-consciously trying to avoid the little girl's bright, inquisitive gaze as she peeked over Koyama's shoulder at him.   
  
The next day brought a directive from Shige to bring their dirty clothes to the laundry.  The day after that Shige texted him in the afternoon to say that he felt too lazy to make dinner, so could Ryo do the honours.  Koyama came over again during the last evening with a hotpot, and Ryo even managed to summon up the energy to steal a couple of prawns from Shige.  
  
The first night he came home, he felt the pinpricks of panic lurking like claws in the dark, waiting to sink themselves into him after Shige left.  He'd walked Shige down the stairs and was almost tempted to follow him all the way back to his car.   
  
Shige must have sensed his anxiety, because before he drove off, he pulled up in front of Ryo, who was fidgeting on the pavement, and said he'd drop by again during the weekend.  Minutes after, Koyama texts him a 'good night', promising to come by and visit soon because his niece would really like to meet Ryo-ji-chan again.  Ryo hangs on to those words, using them to shield himself from the suffocating malaise of depression that hovers at the edges of his mind, threatening to crash over and inundate him in an instant.  
  
Yamapi's looking at the spotless kitchen with a tiny smile upon his face.  “That was really nice of them.  _Member-ai_ forever, ne?”  He wanders towards the fridge, getting out a juice for himself, and then pads around the place like he's seeing it for the first time – which in a way, he is, Ryo concedes, it's been a very long time since the apartment has looked so... livable – poking about at the shelves and finally throwing himself down upon the couch with an 'umph' of satisfaction.  
  
Ryo watches, mildly amused, as Yamapi gives a full-body stretch, complete with interlocked fingers and wiggling toes.   
  
“Someone's having a good day.”  
  
The atmosphere between them feels lighter, Yamapi is more upbeat than he has been, and Ryo doesn't sense the awkward helplessness that seemed to emanate from Yamapi the past several times he was here, like he was facing something he couldn't really handle yet was still stubbornly clinging on, as if through sheer persistence, he would somehow be able to make it better.  
  
Yamapi grins.  “I went to visit Shige the other day at his workplace and he's doing rather well.  We were supposed to meet for lunch...”   
  
The man in front of him is more like the Yamapi that Ryo remembers – not the one who broke into his apartment with Jin to drag him off the kitchen floor, who stood over him with clenched fists and a blank face like he was presiding over a loved one who was dying; but Yamapi from the years before, a little absent-minded and randomly spazzy, the one who said that NewS was like coming home, Ryo's brother-friend he's spent almost his entire life with.  
  
He sprawls out next to Yamapi on the couch, gazing at the ceiling and quietly basking in Yamapi's voice, lazy and animated by turns, telling him details about Shige's job and his colleagues, about Koyama and his fiancee, about how Tegoshi and Massu are doing.   
  
He lets Yamapi ramble on, not bothering to volunteer that the updates Yamapi's recounting to him is a repeat of what he's already heard from Koyama and Shige.  When he glances to his right, he can see the pleasure lighting up Yamapi's face as he talks and he thinks he feels a bit of the same happiness trickle into him as well.  
  
Gradually, Yamapi leans over more and more until his head is resting on Ryo's shoulder.  “Ne, Ryo, Shige once told me, long long ago, that life should be about looking at things in such a way that you only see the prettier parts of it.”  
  
Ryo makes a vague noise of agreement.  “Yeah, that's something he would say.”  
  
“It sounds a bit unrealistic, doesn't it?  I used to think so, but now I think maybe that's why he can be so strong.”  
  
He's no longer looking, but he can tell from Yamapi's voice that Yamapi is smiling.  
  
The image is overlaid in his mind's eye with Shige's laughter, Koyama's cheerful face through the steam from the hotpot, their lively banter over the dinner table.  He sees the sincerity in Shige's eyes as he promises he'll come visit, Shige's faith when he says _Nishikido-kun, you can be so much more than this._  
  
“Hmm... maybe.”   
  
Ryo shifts until Yamapi's head is in the crook of his neck and his own cheek is resting on top of Yamapi's soft hair.  
  
 _All the chances you never had, and isn't that a wonderful thing?_  
  
*  
  
 _how much can i love this world, gripped by fear, thrown into unrest_  
  
It's one of those days where Shige feels like he doesn't even really have the time to breathe.  The firm currently has four high-profile cases going, with court appearances due for three of them within the next couple of days, one after another, and everyone on the various legal teams are going slightly crazy with the volume of research and preparation.  
  
 He's making his way down the corridor to the next meeting – his fifth today – with hurried strides, loaded down with case files, when he gets the call.   Biting off a curse, he transfers all the folders to his right arm and fishes his phone out of his pocket, footsteps coming to an abrupt halt in surprise when he sees who is calling.  
  
Ducking into an empty meeting room, he flips his phone open, setting down the stack of paperwork on the table.  
  
“Nishikido-kun?”   
  
He wonders if he should be worried – Ryo's never called him in the middle of work before.  Even if he was feeling bored, Ryo normally limited their office-hour interactions to texts and emails.  
  
There's no answer from the other end of the phone.  All Shige hears is the sound of crashing waves.  
  
“Nishikido-kun, where are you?  Are you alright?”  Shige is thankful that Ryo is no longer cooping himself up in his apartment, but there's still a part of him – the over-imaginative, sort-of-pessimistic part – that's guess-timating how far Ryo could have travelled, what might have happened to him, and whether there's a necessity to send out a search party.  
  
“...The sun's setting, Shige.  I'd forgotten how beautiful it could be.”  
  
For an instant, relief engulfs him.  He walks over to the tightly drawn blinds and pokes a finger through the slats, squinting at the orange-yellow glare bouncing off the glass of the opposite building.  He hasn't realised that the day is ending.  
  
“Well, lucky you, I'll be stuck in a meeting in a concrete cube where one can't tell night from day.”  
  
“Lucky me, huh?”  Ryo starts laughing – it's a little breathless, a little hysterical, yet it feels like Ryo is finally getting something off his chest.   
  
Shige holds onto the phone, holds onto his breath.  He stares at the edges of the brilliant sphere reflected upon the distant windows, until its afterimages flash green and purple in his vision.  
  
“...I want to be better than this, Shige.”  
  
Ryo's voice is like a whisper, overwhelmed by the roaring surf in the background, but the words reverberate in Shige's mind, like a bell ringing in the middle of the night.  
  
“Yes, I think it's about time.”  He tries to keep the smile from his voice.  
  
“Ch,” but Ryo's chuckling a little on his end as well.   
  
“The waves are really looking good.”  
  
“Rub that in a little more, why don't you?” Shige replies wryly.  
  
“...Ne, Shige.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Let's go surfing again sometime.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
Shige already can't recall the last time he was at the beach, but in the coming months, whenever he thinks of that day, his memories always show him the fiery sun dipping down towards golden water.  
  
*  
  
 _for one more time, i want to reach out, one more time, for the firework's light_  
  
Sunday afternoons are for Shige – it's the only day in the week Shige is generally off from work.  He won't appear on Ryo's doorstep until the day has passed noon, catching up on much-needed sleep, so Ryo usually spends the morning tidying up the apartment, before getting around to fixing up something for lunch.   
  
Shige always arrives hungry, and they linger over their food, catching up on the events of the week.  Shige shares interesting anecdotes from work – the antics of quirky colleagues, cases that turn out to be stranger than fiction; and Ryo gets to grumble and bitch about his weekly sessions at the psychiatric clinic.   
  
When he first began getting his head poked around by a shrink, Ryo didn't really feel much different.  The world felt just as forbidding, life just as daunting, and now all he'd done was add another debt to his depreciating finances.  But with each passing session, as he got more and more vocal in his criticisms and dissatisfaction with the lack of progress, he gradually found himself feeling... reconnected, his energy inexplicably returning by tiny increments.  So Ryo reckons he doesn't mind continuing with the therapy for a while longer, if only to deliver more smackdowns to some of the incredible, unbelievable suggestions his humourless psychiatrist comes up with.   
  
Shige's absently plucking at Ryo's guitar when Ryo comes out of the kitchen after washing up the dishes.   
  
Ryo had been messing around with it earlier while waiting for Shige – nowadays he's beginning to hear it again, the snatches of song when he catches a glimpse of the blue sky through his curtains, a couple of notes when he's waiting for the train home.  Instead of the restless disquiet that keeps him from sleep, some mornings he awakes with tears upon his cheeks, haunted by elusive, bittersweet melodies.   
  
Shige glances up as Ryo plops himself down on the couch next to him.  “Sorry, I should have asked, but I haven't touched my own guitar in so long and I suddenly felt the urge.  May I?”  
  
“Go ahead.”   
  
Ryo leans back until his head is upon the armrest and he's lying sideways along the couch, knees curled up and feet propped against Shige's thigh.  His eyes drift shut to the sounds of Shige experimenting, fumbling a bit as he mutters to himself, trying to recall the chords to whatever he's trying to play.  
  
When Shige finally begins strumming, Ryo naturally begins to sing along.  The tune Shige is picking out is beyond familiar – it's written in Ryo's mind and heart.  
  
 _taikutsu na kyou ni iro wo kuwaete, yuuutsu na asu ni mahou wo kakete.  nani ki naku sugosu toki de sae, taisetsu na kioku ni kaetemiseyo._  
  
“Adding colour to the dreariness of today, infusing magic into a depressing tomorrow – it's always been my favourite out of all your solos.”  
  
Shige pauses for a moment to run through the fingering again, trying to change the key to suit his lower register.  
  
 _I'll show you that even these indifferent times will change into important memories._  
  
Ryo stretches his arms out above his head, reaching up and up, before he lets them flop bonelessly back down so his fingertips are trailing upon the floor.  
  
The afternoon is quiet, sort of lazy, and the only sounds in the apartment are from Ryo's guitar and Shige's husky voice singing a little hesitantly, rusty from lack of practice, humming over lyrics when he can't remember them.  
  
The music, music that Ryo created, spills from Shige's fingers and fills the living room.


End file.
